


Quandoquidem Fortuna mihi tete abstulit ipsum

by LaMalefix



Series: Ex Machina [1]
Category: The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Temporary Character Death, To Be Continued
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2019-06-30 05:17:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15745047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaMalefix/pseuds/LaMalefix
Summary: You have committed a serious crime, Magnus Bane.Death speaks to him. And it's true.His crime is enormous, fathomless.But he is ready to pay the price.A life for a life.A mission goes horribly awry, and Jace remains mortally wounded; Magnus as usual saves the day but... at what price?





	1. A life for a life

 

 

 

 

 

> ###  _…Ut te postremo donarem munere mortis_  
>  _et mutam nequiquam alloquerer cinerem_  
>  _quandoquidem fortuna mihi tete abstulit ipsum._  
>    
>  Catullus 101 [" _Ave atque vale_ "] ─ Gaius Valerius Catullus.
> 
> …I’ve come to show this final honour to the dead,  
>  and speak (to what purpose?) to your silent ashes,  
>  since now Fate takes you, _you_ , away from me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Magnus still feels it. The electricity running between his fingers.

The intemperate use of that ancient, unmentionable magic that burned his fingertips.

He feels lightheaded and heavy limbs, his heart still beating in his throat.

Yeah, this means playing with life and death.

This means bringing someone back to life.

This means using his father’s power, letting all that ancient fervor flow between his fingers and asserting his task.

 

It had to go this way from the beginning.

Probably, had he been a clairvoyant, he wouldn’t have had the same certainty.

Sacrificing his energy for the sake of Nephilims. Using until the last tear of magic to do something extremely selfless, and stupid.

 

But he always liked foolish things. And life would be no fun being all infallible.

And yeah, he may not stand on his feet, he may no longer even focus on the motionless body beneath him, just breathing. But, hey, it breathes, and this is the only thing that really matters.

 

The battle was terrible. Furious. Nefarious.

Swarms of unknown creatures thickened in the sky, like clouds black and full of rain. A putrid plant, which had climbed unobserved in the previous days along the shabby profile of a disused warehouse in the most extreme suburbs in Bronx, had begun to vomit from its pulsing hives hoards of deadly, pestilential flies. The roots, which slashed the asphalt, were like tentacles and attacked anyone who came too close.

Hundreds of Mundanes had been killed by that mysterious desease, before being able to identify the plant. And, in an attempt to sever the plant from its roots, dozens of Downworlders were injured.

 

That battle looked like the last. A hellish plant, pestilent flies and swarms of demonic creatures of various and unknown nature seemed to want to end the very existence of the Earth itself. Not to mention the creatures that walk on it.

 

 

And now the sky is an impossible black, like that of the uniforms of these silly silly Nephilims. As if a dense, dark smoke was thickening in the sky.

And Magnus knows what he has done and certainly can’t mourn over it.

Saving a life doesn’t give any regrets.

 

 

He swept it away, channeling all the energy of the other Warlocks around, that terrible killer plant. He had used all the energy he could, drawing on everyone, until he almost had to take away some of his very life energy in order to put an end to the battle.

 

But everything has a price. And the price every time has the nefarious name of collateral damage.

As it disintegrated, the plant struck a final lethal blow with its tentacles-like roots and hit someone.

Someone.

 

At first, Magnus, seeing Alexander collapse on the ground, thought for the worst.

Selfishly. Egoistically.

The relief that came to his heart when, when he turned him around, and found him whole, alive, almost made him feel guilty.

But then with the choked voice, with a choked voice that never had that stupid and adorable Shadowhunter, even when he was hurt and had been several times close to death, he had asked him to help his brother. Hands on the parabatai rune.

_Help him. Save him. Please, Magnus. Please._

His words reverberate in his mind.

Magnus couldn’t do otherwise, than move, and save him.

 

And Jace was in a pool of his own blood when they found him.

Chest still. Eyes wide open.

A gash on the neck. Open arms. Seraph blade a few feet away.

He must have tried to defend himself without great success.

 

That’s why he’s there, Magnus. On the edge of the abyss.

Because Alexander is too young to see a piece of life torn off so early. Because he can’t lose another brother. Because he can’t lose his parabatai.

 

 

He recalled all the magic he had in his body. All, until it affected his vital energy. But it was certainly not enough.

It was already too late, and maybe Alexander knew it.

Perhaps the rune was already gone.

The bond broken.

 

And it couldn’t go like this.

He couldn’t allow it.

He couldn’t.

 

And so, he doesn’t really know how, he recalled his ancestral power.

That primordial sin, his father’s sin, the one that made him so dangerous.

The one that made him a Fallen Angel. A Prince of Hell.

 

 

And he knows, Magnus knows that it’s never a good idea to play with death.

It’s something very dark. And strong. And dangerous.

And like everything, magic has a price.

And this in particular has a rather high price.

 

A life for a life.

 

 

 

 

 

 

His fingers still quiver.

And time seems to have stopped.

What will ever be happening?

Magnus doesn’t have the heart to formulate this question aloud.

 

Jace breathes at his feet and maybe it’s the only thing that moves, aside from him, while black smoke obscures the night starless sky even more. And the lights of the buildings seem only a distant memory, while they seem to be swallowed completely by the darkness.

Everything around him is still. The Shadowhunters around him, who surrounded him while helping Jace, even the Children of the Night and the Children of the Moon, who were fighting alongside just a couple of minutes before, are still. Only he and Jace seem to be able to move. It’s like something has stopped time.

Something.

Or someone.

 

_Magnus Bane._

 

The voice is creepy. Terrifying

And it seems to come from the other world.

It comes from the other world.

The black smoke thickens completely to compress itself and create a creature made of thin fog and dust. Large black wings that stand out from the wide black robe, moved by a nonexistent wind. The hood. The scythe.

It’s the Death.

 

_You have committed a serious crime, here._

 

Death speaks to him. And it’s true.

His crime is enormous, fathomless.

But he is more than ready to pay the price.

A life for a life.

 

_Extending someone’s life is something that only we, Angels, can decide. Certainly, it’s not something you should try._

 

The realization freezes his blood. That’s Azrael, the Angel of Death himself.

And perhaps he should have expected it, a favored treatment for the Nephilims.

Or maybe this is his trial: maybe he died, depleting his magic and life force, and there will be no glorious goodbyes.

Azrael will take him away and let him fall into Hell.

 

_A life for a life. You saved Jonathan Christopher Herondale. Someone must take his place._

 

Magnus swallows. And maybe his lips move, maybe he would like to say something, but no sound comes out of his mouth.

And if this is his judgment, that’s fine.

It’s fine anyway.

He just wanted to have more time with Alexander.

Just that.

More time.

 

_A life for a life. And, since he’s a Nephilim, I can’t take any life but an equally important one. The life of a Nephilim._

 

And all the relief Magnus had in his body suddenly disappears.

An equally important life.

Even in death the Downworlders are different from them.

Even in death, the Downworlders’ lives are worth little in the eyes of the Angels.

 

_His parabatai. I claim his parabatai. I want Alexander Gideon Lightwood. I claim his life._

 

And the blood freezes in his veins. Alexander. He did all this for Alexander and now... _now_... and now Alexander is in danger of dying. Because of him.

And having said this, the cloud of black smoke approaches his face. The black hood covers the void, there is nothing under that robe. That’s only a projection, and Azrael is perhaps already close to Alec to take his life with a stroke of his scythe.

 

_An equally important life. A life that takes a piece away from someone else. This is what you pay to be parabatai. You want more power, you lose a piece of you. This is how it works._

 

«No.» Magnus manages to say, with all the breath in his body. «No».

 

_No?_

 

The tone of the ghostly voice is confused, it seems confused. The head of that hood seems to stoop clumsily to one side.

The only sound perceptible in that total emptiness created by the black smoke is the beating of its wings.

«No.» Magnus reiterates, with all the determination he has ever had.

 

_So how do we want to solve it, Magnus Bane?_

 

«Certainly Alexander Lightwood’s time has not ended. There must be someone else on your list». and he curses himself for his selfishness. Because he would give back Jace if that meant saving Alec.

Hell, he would give back all the Lightwoods, all the Nephilim and even all the Warlocks and Downworlders, if that meant saving Alexander’s life.

 

_As I said, Jonathan Christopher Herondale’s life is worth as much as a life and a half of a normal Nephilim. I need an equally important life. And I have to bring a part of Jonathan Christopher Herondale with me anyway, so... if someone has to take his place that must be Alexander Gedeon Lightwood. And no other. Even if it didn’t have to be today, it is the day of his end. Let my scythe do its job, Magnus Bane._

 

It reiterates the ghostly voice that hovers the sickle in the air, as if to strike Alec a few steps from Magnus.

And Magnus moves fast enough to stop the scythe above his head. The wood engraved with runes burns the palm of his hand.

«Time».

 

_Time?_

 

The Angel sneers scornfully.

Frosty and coarse.

Cruel.

But he draws back the scythe.

And Magnus’ blood seems to have become ice.

 

_Death does not wait for time. I have no time. I shouldn’t even be here. Jonathan Christopher Herondale’s life had to come without too many hitches, Warlock. I am here only to claim what already belongs to me. And I don’t want to have Asmodeus’ son get in the way of my job._

 

Magnus swallows, seeing the scythe again stir in the air.

But he has a plan, he has a proposal that could save Alexander and Barbie’s lives.

«You will have your exchange tomorrow, with interests. I will give you my life, my immortality and my magic, tomorrow. I just want some more time».

 

There is silence. The black cloud of fabrics and feathers of dark angelic wings seems to lose consistency for a moment.

 

_Tomorrow?_

 

«Tomorrow.» Magnus repeats, nodding. «My life will be yours tomorrow».

 

_Your life isn’t as worthy as those of these Nephilims._

 

Again, even in death, even with such a sacrifice, his life will never be as good as that of Nephilims.

Inferior being.

They will always be inferior creatures.

And it’s absurd. They have blood, bones, flesh. They are the same. Only the complex of their blood is different.

And maybe he has tears in his eyes.

But then again Magnus recalls all his determination.

«You’ll take a piece of Jace Herondale with you anyway, if that’s what you want. Because a part of Alexander Lightwood’s heart is mine».

 

_Oh, but if so, things change. And perhaps the payment is excessive at this point... but I agree to give you some time. Tomorrow, when the moon sets, I will take your life._

 

And Magnus is confused and would like to understand more, he would like to know more. He would like... he would like...

But before he can even ask him anything more, Azrael or his projection disappear in a beating of wings and a thin black cloud of mist.

 

And suddenly all the resolution, all the strength he had shown before, in facing him, disappears with the Angel of Death and Magnus falls to his knees two steps away from Jace, still unconscious, but alive.

Alive.

And this must be enough for him.

And when Alec supports him, he can breathe a sigh of relief, and let his head get confused.

And fatigue has the best on him.

 

 

Tomorrow, tomorrow his life will end.

 

 

And that’s okay.

 

He lived long enough.

And maybe he just wanted more time.

 

 

More time to prepare Alec and say goodbye. And maybe some really bad innuendo just to make him laugh and blush.

 

Or maybe he doesn’t want to say goodbye, maybe he should just go away silently and nothing more.

 

Leaving in silence, without too many ceremonies.

 

 

 

Ave atque vale.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there!  
> I'm here again with a short (??) angst story! (which perhaps will ends well!) I hope to be able to update soon! I wrote this chapter in two hours or so (and maybe it isn't very well written! and among other things I lost more time to fix the layout than anything else... yay!) so I really hope to update soon, I really like the idea behind this story... so... fingers crossed for my inspiration to not run out!  
> Let me know if you liked it, leave a kudo or a comment, I want to have some feedback to adjust the story: D  
> Thank you so much for reading this far!


	2. A broken heart is a beating heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And Magnus’ heart breaks, crumbles into a thousand pieces, and becomes ashes. Ashes. Because this is the last time he will see him sleep. It’s the last time he sees him so quiet.
> 
> It’s the last time.

 

 

 

> ### Tamquam semper uicturi uiuitis, numquam uobis fragilitas uestra succurrit, non obseruatis quantum iam temporis transierit; uelut ex pleno et abundanti perditis, cum interim fortasse ille ipse qui alicui uel homini uel rei donatur dies ultimus sit. Omnia tamquam mortales timetis, omnia tamquam immortales concupiscitis.   
>    
>  Lucius Annaeus Seneca – De Brevitate Vitae
> 
> You live as if you were destined to live forever, no thought of your frailty ever enters your head, of how much time has already gone by you take no heed. You squander time as if you drew from a full and abundant supply, though all the while that day which you bestow on some person or thing is perhaps your last. You have all the fears of mortals and all the desires of immortals.

  


  


  


  


When he manages to open his eyes, the first thing that welcomes him is the aseptic light of the Institute infirmary, and he doesn’t remember if it’s actually the first time he sleeps there, or the Institute in general, but certainly this will be the last.

And it takes him a moment to notice Alec, not far from him, asleep, his head reclining in his folded arms, sunk on the frayed mattress of his cot.

And he’s so peaceful. So young. So beautiful.

And Magnus’ heart breaks, crumbles into a thousand pieces, and becomes ashes. Ashes. Because this is the last time he will see him sleep. It’s the last time he sees him so quiet.

It’s the last time.

Alec has been many of his first times, even if he lived long enough, multiple lives and several loves and just as many partings, Alec has been many of his first times. And it will also be his first real sacrifice. And it will be his last happy moment. And that’s fine with it. It’s all right, somehow, to lose his life to save Alec’s.

And he wants to tell him so many things, he wants to tell him sweet words and give him hope. Because maybe it isn’t true that Nephilims should really love only once. And maybe Magnus, though he doesn’t like this idea, maybe it’s not Alec’s big, one, true love. Certainly Alexander is his, Alexander is his great love, the love of his life. The love of his immortal and eternal life.

But he must not be the love of Alec’s life, the love of his mortal life. As much as he would like to remain in his heart forever, but it would be selfish to ask him this. He can’t mourn him forever. Because Alec has a lot of time ahead, so many experiences to do, loves to live and battles to face.

And he won’t have Magnus with him. And maybe it’s better this way. He will have his family, his parabatai, his people.

And his eyes burn.

And he would just like to forget that in a few hours he will take his last breath and he will have to leave Alec forever, too soon.

And maybe he would like a last lap in bed with him too, to see his lips tremble as he tries to hold back those husky moans and red cheeks, before orgasm has the upper hand and tears his breath.

And he would like to talk to Catarina and bid her farwell in time, and don’t disappear without saying anything, because she will hate him to death.

And it would like many other things but he has so little time. Little, little time.

And maybe it’s better this way, it’s better not to prepare Alec, it’s better not to say goodbye.

He still looks at him a little longer, just enough to impress his complete tranquility in his mind. He doesn’t know how it works, with death, because it has always been an option, yes, but never really palpable, so he wants to burn Alec’s sleeping face, completely relaxed, in memory, so as to always remember it, if there is something else on the other side.

He lived long, so very long, and lived as if he was destined to live forever, he was meant to live forever. Never thinking of the frailty of his mortal life. And then came Alec, he broke int his life, barging in without many ceremony and made every single thing different. Making mortality palpable. Living with Alec, with is life hanging by a thread, made his fears emerge. Being immortal, but having the fears of mortals.

But it’s good this way too. It’s good because he loved, loves him dearly, fondly, passionately, like no one else.

And so, now as he looks at him his eyes become heavy and slowly he gives way to sleep. And maybe he would like to stay up a little longer and not waste his last day on Earth to sleep.

  


  


What welcomes him when he wakes up a second time, is the ceiling of his apartment. And now he’s alone in bed, in his huge king-sized bed. Alec is not there, but since the mattress next to him is warm, he must have been there until recently.

Magnus turns on his side, and sees something out of the corner of his eye. A movement that then focuses: the Shadowhunter is in front of the wardrobe, two crumpled shirts in his hands and low shoulders, in a sign of defeat. The pale back, scarred by the runes standing out in front of him. And maybe he should have put a large mirror in front of his bed, and not just to look at his face now and enjoy the obvious pout that surely frowns at his forehead because of the arduous choice he has in his hands, but also to enjoy a another perspective of certain adventures between the sheets. Well, it must be said that it’s a little late now. Yep.

Better not to think about it.

«The blue one, emphasizes your eyes.» Magnus whispers even before saying goodmorning.

Alec turns around, his eyes amazed,an adorable smile on his lips. «Hey, you’re awake!».

And Magnus smiles back, and tries to forget the pain he will give him. "Hello".

«So blue, eh?» Alec buzzed, throwing the other shirt, that strange, faded green, without much wobble, all rolled up in the drawer.

«Obviously.» He nods very seriously. «But let me look a little longer, before you get dressed, you know...».

The Shadowhunter sighs slightly, and crouches on the mattress to get a little closer to him. His arms stretched to prop up the mattress, while he crawled slowly towards him.

«Hi.» Magnus smiles, and tries to get drunk with all that beauty, all that splendour. His great, one true love.

Alec curls his eyebrows and gets a little closer to him. And his eyes seem to want to scrutinize his soul, but then he smiles, in that breathtaking way. A little crocked smile. A disconcerting tenderness and satisfaction, fondness in his eyes. Perhaps this is the moment when Magnus definitively decides that he doesn’t want to tell him anything. That he won’t say goodbye. «What’s up?».

«Nothing. I’m just... a little tired.» he answers hastily. «Do you know how handsome you are?»

«You, flatterer...» the Shadowhunter comments, approaching just enough to kiss his forehead. «Thank you».

«Well, it’s the sheer truth.» Magnus replies grinning, while his hands climb up those handsome biceps.

Alec shakes his head, snorting a half laugh. «No, thank you for saving Jace’s life.» he murmurs, and is so tremendously close, so damn close that Magnus’ heart trembles in his chest and loses a beat. Nothing new, he has always done this effect, Alexander, but he doesn’t know if this time he will manage to disguise his reaction. «You really used so much magic, I was so worried... I shouldn’t have asked you to...».

«Alexander.» Magnus calls him softly and the Shadowhunter closes his mouth. «I would do it, hundreds of times. And not because you asked me, or because if Jace died he would take away a part of you... but because it’s your family... and I don’t want you to lose your brother...» he murmurs. And maybe it’s almost an admission, maybe these are the right words. «And then you certainly don’t have to thank me...».

And Alec must not know the truth.

The Shadowhunter relaxes his shoulders and sighs, and is a relieved and satisfied sigh. «I was so worried, Magnus... I suddenly couldn’t see anything, and then you collapsed in my arms... and you didn’t wake up...» he murmurs. «You used too much magic to save Jace... to get rid of that plant and... Accept at least my gratitude».

Magnus tightens his lips and mumbles in assent. «If you give me a kiss, we’re even».

«How cheap are we, today...» Alec comments, leaning over his mouth.

Magnus has always found it rather difficult to describe the feelings he feels, especially for someone so absurdly irreverent, incorruptible and sometimes a little clumsy like Alexander. Yet he has a vast vocabulary, he knows the laws that govern the world, but it’s only the strange funny dive that makes his heart sink in his chest when Alexander Lightwood approaches him, the only way to describe him. It’s like losing all words, it’s like having hundreds of disconnected phrases in your head, and not being able to give it a voice. But he is eternal, he likes to think of being as old as time, and knows more or less how things are going and, in fact, he manages to mask everything he feels and how much he hurts his chest now.

Alexander’s lips are soft, they taste like toothpaste, but in his mind, Magnus swears that they know of love, of extreme trust.

And yes, it’s true that he didn’t need a fee, which he did of his own free will, that saving Jace was just and simply the only possible choice, but that kiss is enough to not regret anything. Not even that this is his last day alive.

When Alec turns away from him, he just sighs and pulls himself to his feet to start dressing again. I would stay here to kiss you all day... I would undress and put myself in bed with you...».

«Do it?» Magnus suggest with a smile.

But Alec grunts shrugging his shoulders. «The Clave».

And the Warlock swallows, and knows what it means. He must go to Idris. And the only thing he wanted, his last wish, where last is the key word, was spending some time with him. And he decides that’s okay. Better not to have him at home when he dies. «You must go to Idris».

«Yep, but I think I can come back for dinner. Would you like to go on a date, to eat somewhere like at that Indian restaurant that is on the seventh?» he asks smiling.

And Magnus doesn’t know what to say, he doesn’t know what to do, and maybe the words will precede his thoughts. And damn it, how much would he like to go out to dinner with him, see how he eats awkwardly at the Indian restaurant in spite of that gracefulness of them Nephilims. But then no, he doesn’t want to have to explain why Azrael will take his life away after the moon sets. No, better not. «I don’t know, I have to... I have to do _something_ tonight...» he murmurs.

«Ah, then maybe I’ll take something on my way home...» he nods.

Magnus swallows hard and hurries to change the subject, another second talking about tonight and he will soon end up sobbing. «Why did they ask for your presence? Isn’t usually Jace the one to deal with the Clave?».

«Oh yes, it’s usually the Head of the Institute’s works... but since you were the one to find the solution to eliminate that demonic plant...» he mutters, shrugging his shoulders. «They wanted to know your solution. And you have to rest, you’ve used too much magic and I thought that, since you’ve explained everything, every single step... I could take care of it».

Magnus grins. «Uh, I’d like to hear you talk about magic so bad... and how cool your man was when he destroyed that plant».

And Alec tries to swallow a laugh. «Ah, you know that I fill my mouth with you!».

And maybe for a moment he tries to stay serious because certainly the Shadowhunter didn’t mean what he thinks, it was certainly not a sexual allusion, but the unstoppable desire to make a last, stupid, bad-tempered pun, gets the better of of him. And then with a sneer on his lips he hurries to give breath to his mouth. «In fact, you’re incredibly good at having me in your mouth...».

And that incredible blush that takes Alec’s whole face is priceless, as he rolls his eyes. «God, Magnus!» he groans.

«What’s up?» He snorts. «Take it as a compliment...».

Alec sighs and settles the shirt collar. «Anyway, I’ll try to hurry up because I want to spend some time with you tonight...».

And his breath itches, and his heart makes that strange dive again, and again hundreds of thoughts lurk in his head. _Shit, shit, shit._ And he’s about to leave him and he’s afraid, afraid of hurting him. And he certainly will do it to him. And he doesn’t want to leave bad memories of him, and he doesn’t want his absence to dig in and empty his heart.

«Mags?» Alec mutters and lifts him from his thoughts.

«Yes, sorry.» he stutters, sighing.

«Everything good? Maybe you have to sleep a little longer...» he murmurs.

The sneer that curls his lips must mask his inner turmoil. «No, I was thinking of how good is my man».

«I noticed it from the slime that came out of your mouth...» Alec says scornfully and runs a hand through his hair listlessly, as if the gesture was enough to fix his hair ruffled bed. «Anyway, I said, you can call Jace this morning, you can boss him around until mid-afternoon. Then of course, this afternoon, he is busy with the Institute, he must sign the last night reports... so, yes, rest a little more».

Magnus sighs. «There’s no need for him to be available to me».

«I think I want to thank you for yesterday’s help...» Alec mumbled, crawling on the bed again to give him a kiss on the forehead. «I send you a fire message as soon as I finish this meeting».

Magnus sighs and stretches to hug his neck and pull him back against him. «I’ll open a portal to Idris, if you give me five minutes to kiss yourself a bit».

«You do not have to use magic, Mags, you’ve used enough... there’s Clary out here, she’ll open the portal, she’s coming with me to Idris...» he mutters relentlessly, but in fact does nothing to get away from him, rather he sinks in the embrace and leaves the lips to slip on his neck in small kisses chained on his skin.

This must be enough. In the end, not all those sentenced to death have the right to one last wish. Or one last meal, yes. So, maybe he should think about this. At his last meal. Because if he ever has to focus on Alec, now, as much as he wants to be swallowed by that blue sea of his eyes, by that adorable hug, and those kisses that are sweet and taste of mint, the smell of his aftershave, his shampoo , from the inebriating scent of his skin, here his heart wouldn’t be able to hold back the river of words, of goodbyes, of regrets.

And for a moment Alec observes him, just pulls up and seems to want to scrutinize him again deep in the soul, with that raised eyebrow and the slightly inquisitorial look. He will be a great Inquisitor one day. «Hey?».

«Another kiss.» he smiles and leans over to him.

No, he must enjoy this moment, he must kiss him as if his life depended on it, as if it were the last kiss of his life.

And indeed it is the last kiss.

His last breath.

Alec walks away and picks up his cheek with his hand. «I’ll be back soon, mh?».

And Magnus grunts in assent, swallowing hard and engulfing all those tears that at least managed to keep in the tear duct inside. Yet the eyes burn to death.

«And maybe we’ll talk a little bit tonight, eh? That you look a bit strange, today...» he mumbles. «Do you promise me that you rest a little?».

He nods, moving his head in a perhaps convulsive way, but at least it helps clear his mind. «Cross on my heart, I’ll rest yes, and don’t worry... it’s all right. Go defeat your demons, Shadowhunter».

«It seems more like I’m going around gardening... you know? Plants...» he mutters this silly pun in a somewhat clumsy way.

And Magnus laughs, his heart light. Alec always finds a ways to make him feel better. «Yes, demonic gardening!» he mutters.

Alec sighs and moves away from him permanently. «Sleep a little longer, and call Jace and boss him around, you can even make him prepare your breakfast, is the only one of us brothers to have understood how not to burn the bacon...».

The Warlock is still stretching a little and crouches under the covers again. «Are you sure he won’t poison me?».

«I said Jace, not Izzy,» he replies, rolling his eyes and shoots a flying kiss and winks at him before opening the door.

And Magnus stretches out his hand to recover the imaginary flying kiss and carry it to his chest. «I love you, Alexander».

«I love you too, Mags».

  


  


It’s only a handful of minutes later, when by now the whirlpool of the portal has stopped grumbling in the other room, that Magnus decides to get out of bed.

And after a hot bath and a good half hour spent in front of the mirror without moving a finger to make up, he decides that today he will be fabulous, today he will be sparkling and handsome, as always, or perhaps more than usual. But certainly the thoughts in his head aren’t really on that line, far from it. There is Azrael and his black wings, the black fog thickening in his thoughts. There is death waiting for him tonight.

And he can’t help thinking that, in some way, he will leave Alec in good hands. He will leave Alec with his brother, with his parabatai. And certainly Jace is one who puts the parabatai bond at the top of his priorities. So he should get away with it for a while.

As much as the blond can be unreliable, he loves Alec almost as much as Magnus loves him.

To this he thinks while choosing the nailpolish for this evening, nacre. And he opts for a puff of white in his hair, styled in the air. For now he won’t choose what to wear, for his last night on Earth, he prefers to put on one of Alec’s t-shirt, one of those horribly worn out but comfy, and a pair of sweatpants. Not that it matters so much, because he will die. And maybe he wants to go on simple, nothing too elaborate or colorful.

Perhaps he would like to wear white, just to give a little sacred tone to his end. The color of the mourning of those Nephilims.

And, as much as he likes the idea of tormenting Barbie all day, he prefers to sit quietly, eat his favorite dishes and drink the bottle of wine he has left aside for great occasions.

And today is a great occasion, is not it?

He hastens to write a fire message to contact Catarina and invite her to lunch. He wrote "urgent", so she should not be late.

And so he hurries to recover that old wine, almost old as him, on which he casted a spell, after having bought it at auction for the exorbitant sum of two hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars, indeed more than exorbitant for 1838. And he had bought it with the clear intent of being able to drink it, in spite of those who wanted to collect it, at the height of his life. An unrepeatable moment. He kept it for almost two hundred years and, since he met Alexander, he always hoped to open that bottle with him, to toast in his honor and celebrate their love. Celebrating an eternity that he really wanted to promise and give him, but that in fact they won’t live together.

Better to focus on the details of the pompous bottle, as pompous as the name of that ancient wine, once belonging to the enormous collection of Thomas Jefferson. On the thin like parchment label, the name of the vine is written in an extremely pretty penmanship, there is a drawing of a castle grated on the watermark and there is still the sealing wax around the cork with the engraving of two intricate letters.

He decides to uncork it to give a little air to the amaranth nectar.

When the magic wind generated by the portal, just ruffles his hair, Magnus snaps his fingers to summon two beautiful crystal glasses.

«Ah, if you urgently invited me to drink some wine before lunch, Magnus, we need a moment to review your priorities...» mutters Catarina, behind him, and when the Warlock looks up and smiles, he realizes that sure she came straight from work, she still has the nurse gown on and obviously those horrible, horrible slippers.

«Somewhere it’s already five o’clock in the afternoon».

She snorts, and reaches out to pick up the bottle from the coffee table. «Chateau Margaux, 1787... a bottle for special occasions...» he mumbles. «And what would be the great occasion here, tell me?»

«My departure,» he sighs.

«Your what?» growls Catarina, and for a second her glamour trembles and it’s just a moment that her true skin, the blue one, emerges. «Magnus, I’ve just finished a twelve-hour shift, I have to take a shower and cover an intensive care turn in less than four hours, I don’t think I can put up with your shit too long, what Alec has done this time?» she adds bitterly.

And Magnus didn’t expect anything different, obviously she it would be annoyed. In fact, he has always been particularly melodramatic, but he is serious this time. «Sit down, please».

«What do you have to tell me?» she asks, standing on the back of the couch, the large bottle of wine still in her hands.

And he doesn’t know what words to find, he doesn’t know how to tell her because she might not understand. This whole situation is unnatural, impossible, and there are no right words he can find. «I’m going to die tonight».

«What?» she mutters, her eyes as dark as night.

«I told you, sit down. And drink a little.» Magnus answers.

She finally moves around the couch and sits a short distance from him.

And he wisely avoids his inquiring look. «Do you want some snacks?».

«Magnus, what’s up? I don’t like it when you talk about these things...»Catarina murmurs.

And that tone, that slight tremor that he can identify in his friend’s voice, forces him to turn around and look at her. «Things have happened last night...».

«Did you fight with Alec? What did you do?» she growls, her eyes stern.

Magnus smiles. «Yesterday evening, Jace died.» he sighs.

«Oh my god.» Catarina interrupts her. «And Alec?».

«I managed to save him, to─to bring it back...» he murmurs.

And she looks at him with wide eyes. «What have you done?».

«I... I made _a trade_...» he mumbles.

«And with whom?» she asks. «Let’s not start playing the twenty questions, explain everything to me in detail. Because if someone does an exchange like that, then it’s someone extremely powerful».

Magnus nods slowly. «Azrael.» he answers, and before she can interrupt him, he hurries to say something else. «A life for a life. My life, for Alexander’s... he wanted Alexander’s life. After I saved Jace...»

And she inhales sharply a long sigh. «What the hell did you do, Magnus? How did you save Jace?!».

And he just smiles. «Do you want a glass of wine?».

«Yup. Absolutely, before you say anything else I need a lot of alcohol.» sighs Catarina.

  


  


And two bottles of old wine later, Catarina still seems to have to metabolize everything. She swore a lot, tried to convince him to find another solution, yes, but she couldn’t change his mind. And then what other solution would there be? Let the love of his life die?

And then that question came. «Does he know?»-

And the Warlock smiles and shakes his head.

«Magnus you need to tell him. Where is he now?» she growls.

«Idris.» he sighs.

«And... how do you think he’ll take it?» She asks, eyes wide.

«He’s young, Cat.» Magnus murmurs, and it’s true, Alec is so very young, and has a lot of time ahead. «He’s so young, and will move on sooner or later... he doesn’t need me, he needs his parabatai, his family...».

And she shakes her distraught head. «Alec loves you, Magnus. And you don’t want to tell him?».

«You’re here for a reason, Cat.» he smiles, his voice rough.

And she looks down, and seems to want to incinerate him. «I won’t do it, Magnus, I will not erase Alec’s memory».

«I just want you to watch over him.» he smiles. That’s a good option too, but Cat doesn’t need to know, that erasing Alec’s memory of him can be a good option. «And on his family. I entrust him to you, eh?».

«You entrust him to me?» she murmurS.

«I entrust him to you.» he nods softly. «Don0t tell him anything about all this. Of my departure. Make up some excuse, tell him I don’t love him anymore, tell him I’m gone. That I’m an asshole. That I don’t want to be used by the Nephilim... and don’t want to see him ever again. And... something else I don’t know?».

And maybe his voice doesn’t tremble that much, his heart doesn’t hurt that much.

Catarina shakes her head. «Magnus...»

And finally he gives voice to what scares him the most about this situation. «I will hurt him but... he can hate me, he must hate me because otherwise he won’t move on and I... I can’t help him...» he shakes his head. And he tries to ignore how much his eyes burn, how strong the tears press into the corners of his eyes. «I couldn’t let his parabatai die, I couldn’t let him die... a life for a life, it’s okay for Azrael to take mine. I lived long enough, I lived long enough. And Alec doesn’t need me so much, you know?».

And that hurts badly but he likes to think that Alec will manage to live on, without him.

«You’ll break his heart...» she sighs.

«I know. But better a broken heart, because it beats...» he smiles. «He will love again».

And she squints, and just swallows.

«I’m sorry, Cat.» He says quietly, and only when he has finished speaking does he realize how much his voice is like a whisper, faint and hoarse.

She sighs. «You’re an asshole, Magnus Bane. I can’t lose you too».

«You’re a strong woman, Catarina Loss.» he smiles, and sniffles. «And you will be a great leader for our people, now go you have to rest because soon your turn starts again...».

«Magnus... I should stay here, tonight... with you...».

«Everyone is alone in death, my dear.» he answers standing up. «That’s okay, I just say goodbye, here... and don’t worry, I’ll come to haunt your home, you won’t get rid of me so easily».

And she smiles, following him off the couch. «You’re an idiot».

«So goodbye, Cat.» he fumbled, spreading his arms.

And she sniffs, and says nothing else. He will be another of her losses, she will have to say goodbye to him too, and maybe Magnus didn’t want to give her this pain, he did not want to break her heart too.

But anyway, a broken heart is a beating heart.

And that’s okay.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, one more chapter to go...  
> I may or may not post very soon the next chapter so, stay tuned...  
> And I'm thinking of turning it in a small series, I want to write Alec's POV over this whole situation and the aftermath of Magnus and Azrael's encounter and something after that... I have a lot of ideas!  
> Let me know what do you think about it, leave a comment a kudo!  
> Thank you all for reading so far!


	3. The moon has set

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That's why Magnus is sitting on the couch. A vial of his most powerful memory potion still seething in his hand.
> 
> To help Alexander move forward.
> 
> To go on without him.
> 
> That's why it made it for.
> 
> A sip, and Alec will forget today. Of what will happen to Magnus tonight, of his disappearance, his departure.
> 
> Two sips, and the potion will hide his departure with a series of memories built ad hoc by the ingredients he has chosen: magpie's eyes for a bad break, salamander's tooth for a farewell fight.
> 
> Three sips, which actually means to drink it all, and Magnus will be completely erased from his life.
> 
> Puff.
> 
> His full existence won't even be a memory. He won't be anything.
> 
> There will never be anything between them, no morning spent in bed, no sleepless night to tumble between the sheets, no sweet word, no kiss.
> 
> Nothing.
> 
> But at least Alec's heart will be safe.

 

 

 

 

> ### Δέδυκε μεν ἀ σελάννα  
>  καὶ Πληΐαδεσ, μέσαι δὲ  
>  νύκτεσ πάρα δ᾽ ἔρχετ᾽ ὤρα,  
>  ἔγω δὲ μόνα κατεύδω.  
>    
>  Sappho - “Nocturne” (fr. 168 b Vogit)
> 
> The sinking moon has left the sky,  
>  Lost is the Pleiades light.  
>  Midnight comes--and goes, hours fly  
>  And solitary still, I lie.
> 
>   
>    
> 
> 
>   
> 
> 
>  

 

 

 

 

Life is a mystery.

Events are held there, believing them to be our own, but they are revealed in discernment as already written.

They open the curtain only by analyzing them, by virtue of memory.

Distraction destroys, ruins many precious pearls and leaves orphans of an experience donated and built for something else.

If at his age, venerable and ancient, he would sink into memory, everything would marvel him in his chasing and overlapping, in the evolution of events, in the pains suffered or in the joys experienced. Everything follows, everything repeats, he knows it, Magnus. And he knows it well. In reality, perhaps, he wouldn't be so astonished, he loved so much and lost as much, between his fingers ran a lot of magic, but also ran and slipped away as much life and love.

Yet...

Yet, his heart has beaten for centuries, in the very same way, and he loved to believe himself selfish, narcissist and hedonist, he loved to call himself free and freely respond to what is written on the registers of the Clave, not to be outdone. And then, _then_...

And then he met Alexander.

And nothing remained the same.

  
  


Life is a mystery.

And perhaps the somewhat luscious wine he drank with Catarina a few hours ago made him suddenly wise.

There is a complex plot. Invisible and thin.

It's necessary to turn the fabric over, to contemplate the whole.

Maybe, yes, it had to go this way from the very beginning. From the moment Alec entered his life, from that first night spent healing him, Magnus had the feeling that he would give up his life to save that of his Shadowhunter.

And maybe that's why he enjoyed every single moment with him.

What may have seemed trivial has proved to be important, and every apparently unimportant aspect has proved essential...

... his adorable, quiet snoring, which he still denies, the way his hair curls on his pillow, or that thin veil of beard that darkens his chin in the morning. The way in which, when stretching, just lengthens the left leg and falters a little, his eyes that glow when eating something horribly greasy and satisfying ...

The little things.

And Magnus thanks Heaven, even now, thanks the Angel for having given him all this, to have made him know true love, full happiness.

Even if for a short time.

Because he has spent all his immortal existence, all his life, to love and to let himself be used. To get the heart broken. But not even all the time he had, all the time he left behind, would have been enough for him to be happy with someone else but Alec.

  
  


  
  


Memory is an incredible muscle, it allows you to know and recall even a trifle, a nonsense that didn't even seem to have been forfeited in that huge warehouse, and you can just recall it also through something as insignificant as a smell, a color, and it's all reachable. Within reach.

The mnemonic exercise enriches situations and facts never thought of, yet basic.

So it sinks into the great book of existence.

There are pages that raise up to feel gratitude for everything that has been unconsciously made, tried or dreamed.

And this is where his dream is born. A dream that is concreteness.

It was always there, but Magnus never realized: the dream of a house never thought or imagined, but existing, built step by step, in Alec's embrace, so wonderfully perfect that his mind can't describe.

Yet he knows millions of words. And his memory is well trained and ready. But every single thing in that house that has been his for a long long time now reminds him of them. Alec's in his life. Their life together. Screams of their life together.

There is that corner, where there is the armchair next to the liquor cabinet in which Alec loves sitting down to read, because the light coming from the French window that opens onto the balcony is perfect. There is a very specific point in the living room where he's used to drink his coffee in the morning, and now he seems to see him, standing there with his new pajama trousers a bit too wide on the hips, which he bought himself and is clearly the wrong size and is horrible on anyone with this terrible checkered texture, but obviously on him is breathtaking... so well, he seems to see him there, with his battered cup in his hand and observes him in silence, while savoring his coffee.

And if he looked in the bedroom, Magnus would be assailed by more or less hot memories. He would also be attacked by an Alec with the flu, who runs around the house with a woolen blanket on his shoulders, red cheeks and a swollen nose.

And if he looked in the kitchen he would see him there, all intent on tasting his stew, which has actually improved somewhat, over time. The eyebrow frowned as he watches the pot mumbling.

Not to mention the smells or noises. If it rains, the sound of the drops beating on the balcony parapet would remind him of one of the many gloomy evenings, spent on the couch together hugging while reading, or watching a movie. If the butter sizzled in a pan, and the sugar was caramelizing, one of the many mornings in which Alec would make him a ready-made breakfast would be immediately remembered.

Everywhere Magnus could swear to see him, to feel him; his little paradise full of various Alexander Lightwood wandering around the house, more or less dressed. And even if nothing compares to him, in flesh and blood, even seeing him standing there, translucent in the memory of his mind, is fine with him.

And then there are many other little things, tiny things, but essential.

Something that Alec has started to record on his phone, when he can, when he knows that he'll be out of town for a couple of days, he records Magnus, he wakes him up, even, just to record his face (which Alec says is adorable and grumpy in the dim morning light). And Alec says that he just wants to have a part of Magnus everywhere he goes, even if is a silly video recorded without focus, it just makes him happy. And that always makes Magnus smile, and hurt a little bit, thinking about it now: no one of his previous loves really wanted him to be together with them all the time.

And yes, memory is an incredible muscle.

Incredible and horribly painful.

That's why Magnus is sitting on the couch. A vial of his most powerful memory potion still seething in his hand.

To help Alexander move forward.

To go on without him.

That's why it made it for.

A sip, and Alec will forget today. Of what will happen to Magnus tonight, of his disappearance, his departure.

Two sips, and the potion will hide his departure with a series of memories built ad hoc by the ingredients he has chosen: magpie's eyes for a bad break, salamander's tooth for a farewell fight.

Three sips, which actually means to drink it all, and Magnus will be completely erased from his life.

_Puff._

His full existence won't even be a memory. He won't be anything.

There will never be anything between them, no morning spent in bed, no sleepless night to tumble between the sheets, no sweet word, no kiss.

_Nothing._

But at least Alec's heart will be safe.

And Magnus'... well, it doesn't matter anymore, does it?

He also wrote a letter to explain everything, or almost. More than anything else to explain how to use it.

But on the letter he wrote more.

He wrote that he doesn't love Alec anymore. That he got fed up with him. That they won't see each other anymore.

_Anymore._

And maybe it was the most painful thing he did.

And yet he've never felt so coward in all his long life.

But it will be easier, it will be easier for Alec to look further, to go on.

His life won't even be a memory, all his long life will be reduced to nothing, nothing more than a breath. Alec will no longer love him, no longer think of him and that's fine with Magnus. That's fine.

He's been in Alec's heart for a while and that's enough.

He couldn't ask for anything better.

Loving so much, as much as he loves Alec, means hurting the most when the time comes.

And his time has come.

  
  


  
  


A few hours ago, Alec sent a fire message, saying he would be later than expected.

And it's good, so he has time to die without having to tell him anything.

He has time to die, without giving him pain: vanishing from his life as if he'd never existed.

But as much as this thing reassures him, as much as this thing calms him, the idea of seeing him one last time would have pleased him.

One last kiss.

Where last is the key word.

  
  


The night is stretching on New York silently. The moon is already high in the sky and hovers over the squared buildings, the houses, the streets. And soon, sooner than he would have feared, he will be dead.

Maybe, maybe he doesn't want to die there, in his apartment, with the things he loved and he chose to keep around. In his little paradise full in every corner of Alexander Lightwood's mirages.

Or maybe being there gives him security.

He certainly can't compete with an Angel, and not anyone, the Angel of Death himself. He can't risk Alec's life, he can't even think about it; _he can't_...

He has decided that he won't wear anything flashy on his face, nothing glittery, that he won't be flamboyant, that he will be perfectly, marvelously, natural. And, yeah, he will wear white clothes. To give his death, more than his life, as much credit, as much importance, as a Nephilim's death.

  
  


  
  


And now he doesn't know how long he's been in the kitchen, in front of his open fridge, and he's trying to figure out if he wants to have dinner or not. Maybe he wants something that celebrates this evening. This last evening. Or maybe he wants to eat something that reminds him of his very first home, his mother. Maybe yes, maybe he wants one of those dishes that his mother cooked him and that he never had the courage to eat all these years. But for now, he untaps another bottle of wine.

And as he returns to his couch, with a glass full of the vermilion nectar, the door suddenly opens wide.

And he almost spills his wine on his sofa. Not that it's something important, being this his end.

And when Magnus turns, and he sees him, Alec's hair all ruffled, his cheeks flushed and the first two buttons of his shirt open, his heart is filled with a joy he couldn't expect. With a joy he didn't want to feel.

And as soon as he sees him, Alec makes _that_ smile, the one slightly lopsided and dorky, his eyes of that intense blue that shine when he sees him. He's so breathtaking, so perfect, young, beautiful, happy.

He is so happy to see him.

And Magnus' heart breaks a little more, just enough to make all that decisiveness that had before disappear. And a sharp pain drums in his chest now, climbs his vertebrae like a cold painful shiver.

_Fuck._

_Fuck._

_Fuck._

Fuck the damned idea to erase his memory, fuck the damn potion and fuck the stupid, stupid letter.

With a wave of his hand, Magnus makes everything disappear into a cloud of blue smoke.

«How nice, you're home!» Alec mutters, his face illuminated by his breathtaking lopsided smile.

And the funny leap that Magnus' heart makes when the Shadowhunter reduces the space between them with two or three wide strides, makes him lose every single resistance left. He loses his words. And suddenly he surrenders to the relief, to spend a last evening with him. «You too have come back early».

Alec grins slightly, his grim smile that means hundreds of things and nothing at the same time. He bends over him, planting a hand in the back of the sofa and spreading his legs in such a way as to have Magnus' between his. And in a more fluid movement that never seizes the Warlock's mouth without too many ceremonies.

It's a deep and urgent kiss, and has the taste of absence and relief.

And Magnus' heart beats strong in the ribcage, seems on the verge of exploding. And for a moment he loses his breath, and it seems that his entire body has become butter.

Suddenly, Alec turns away from him and smiles, with a disconcerting satisfaction.

«Well, hello to you Alexander...» Magnus comments, recovering a minimum of composure.

«You can't imagine how long I wanted to do this...» Alec says sitting with a loud thud down next to him and tugging him close in a tight embrace. «I'm home».

«That I noticed, yes. Welcome back.» Magnus hums, and perhaps he senses something in his voice, a hoarse tremble that he didn't want to show. Better hurry to change the subject. «How did it go? You had to be late, am I wrong?».

«Well, it went very well actually.» he smiles softly and comes a little closer to plant a chain of kiss in the crook of his neck, just below the jaw. «But halfway through my speech, while I was talking about you, you know... and─ _and_ I felt the irrepressible need to come here and, _you know_ , do something important».

And Magnus swallows. He must find some composure, try only to dissemble, pretend that everything is fine, that this is an evening like any other. «And what?» he asks softly with the most playful tone he can find, an eyebrow raised and if he has the courage, he could begin with his silly sexual innuendos that make Alec so red, and make him stammer and smile so lightly, all at once. But that strength, that courage, now he misses them more than ever. Because now the moon is high in the sky, and it won't take long for it to disappear behind the crude profile of the skyscrapers of New York City. And then...

Alec, however, doesn't seem to be of the same opinion. And if maybe a handful of months ago he would have had some big difficulty to say just what he thought, plain and simply, and he stuttered so much (how cute, really). Now he has changed, he is more sure of himself, of his feelings and of where his heart must be, sometimes he stammers a little and that makes Magnus smiles, quite a lot.

And now Alec wears that soft a little mischevious smile, that curves his lips a bit and makes his eyes sparkle. « _You_ ».

Here, that's what he was thinking of! «Oh, Alexander...» Magnus begins to say, pulling himself a little higher to face him better, trying to hide the incredible motion that makes his heart. That _ba-dump_ that hurts so much in his ribcage. And looking at him, at how his ears are so red and at those languid, adorable eyes. He really seems someone inebriated by love. He, Alec is really inebriated by love. By loving him.

And Magnus can't help but think that this is the last time he will ever see that perfect face with that expression there, with his cheeks flushed and his eyes full of a clumsy but adorable emotion; that he will no longer feel the incessant desire to kiss him vigorously, shamelessly; that he will no longer gather his raven hair between his fingers, while slowly their breaths become more short and hoarse.

«If you don't want it tonight... you know...» Alec mutters, looking down.

«Alexander, are you kidding, right?» he smiles, and maybe he managed to hid how much his heart hur in his chest. «Making love to you? With you? Whenever I didn't want to... especially when you make the first move... you know I can't resist you, right?».

And Alec smiles and goes a little closer to him. «Okay, I thought... that today you seemed in a bad mood...» he murmurs and then looks at him in the eyes, with his sharp furrowed look that probe his soul.

Again, his eyes burn and maybe his head spins a little. He throws his arms around his neck and sinks into that embrace for a moment, tasting his warmth so welcoming and comforting. «You know I love you?».

«Sure. But I know that's how you avoid the topic... I know you, Mags...» Alec murmurs, squeezing him a little more. «But you're still not in a good mood...» he adds. «When you're not in a good mood you drink red wine and wear my T-shirts... not that I don't like it when you wear them, you're pretty cute, but...».

Magnus sighs slowly, and sinks in his embrace more. «Everything is alright». And his lie remains bitter on his palate. «I just wanted to feel you, too... and your shirt is so comfy».

«Umh,» the Shadowhunter mumbles.

«It's because I missed you...» Magnus adds, muffling a bit with is lips on the tender skin of Alec's neck. «And I slept all day and you know that when I sleep too much because I used too much magic then to replenish myself I have to drink some red wine... vodka is good when I don't sleep...» he mutters, peppering his other lie supplements, but there is a truth: he missed him, so much.

«I don't have to worry, so?» Alec mutters with a heavy voice.

And Magnus pulls himself up and cups Alec's face in his hands, and looks at him in that intense sea that are his eyes and smiles, softly, letting his cat-like pupils vibrate on him. «No».

Finally, Alec's shoulders relax as he breathes a long relieved sigh. «I had this big concern all day long... you seemed so strange this morning...».

Magnus would be there to kiss away all the worries from his face, heart, mind if he had the time. If only he had the time. «Do you want to make love?».

The Shadowhunter smiles, with his slightly crooked smile. «Don't steal my ideas».

«Then come with me.» he whispers, jumping down to the couch and holding out his hand.

  
  


  
  


Magnus always had a clear feeling of what it meant to be powerful. He always knew how to describe himself, quantifing more than exactly his energy. Since Alexander is in his life, however, he has discovered another kind of power. An unexpressed and silent power, something implied.

Being with Alexander Lightwood means having a powerful heart, having strength, a force unknown and unknowable, unaware, that allows him to do anything. Everything.

Of course, being a Warlock, many things, many many things, if not everything. He's always succeeded with an impressive ease, but being with the person you love, and who loves you as you love him, well beyond the point of no return, beyond any question, any adversity and possibility, gives you access to an uncontrollable energy.

He always felt unbeatable, undefeatable, but with Alexander at his side, his fingers intertwined with his, it's something more than unbeatable. Perhaps there is not even a word to describe it.

And having him there, in his arms that trembles for having him, for the pleasure that will take his breath away, well, fills him with a glorious satisfaction.

  
  


His lips tremble, and his eyes may still burn, when his breath grows shorter and his heart stomps in his chest like a runaway horse.

His back is trembling and he has just a moment to call his name, and to hear himself called by Alec, before their expressions melt and their eyes run aghast.

Alec still brings his hand to his lips, stifling pleasure when the time comes. As if still ashamed to feel pleasure. And Magnus covers his face with kisses when he manages to move his hand and puts it on his chest, at the height of his heart. As if to remember himself that he is still alive, still for a while; and his heart goes fast and jumps a little.

He has a little bit time left. And he couldn't think of something better than celebrate his love for Alec in bed like this. Really.

Because Alec's face when the _moment_ comes is something impossible to define, something undescribable. His face lightens up like the starry night sky, like that moment is the only one that really matters. His eyes widen a little and a little moan trembles on his lips and reverberates in his chest a little.

The shots of their kisses, the broken breaths, are the only things audible in the room, shortly thereafter.

  
  


  
  


  
  


The air in the room is full of a smell that tastes fragrant and pungent. He had never noticed it. Perhaps because he usually lets himself be pampered by Alexander's quiet breathing and tends to take a nap too.

But this time Magnus is in bed, awake, lingers there a moment, an arm around the Shadowhunter's waist; while Alec slowly rumbles his satisfied and even breath on Magnus' neck, against his skin.

The Warlock draws with his fingers the runes that marks his skin and slowly, very slowly, with his fingertips shaking, he remembers and tries to draw a wedding rune.

And his breath hitches at the back of his throat, deep and bitter. And then suffocates what looks like a hollow sob.

The moon is already red and has begun to set and is already low among the buildings that can be seen from his windows.

_Never._

Never more he will a tomorrow.

Never again can he hope for things to change, that one day their union will be like those of the other Nephilim.

No more of them in bed, like this.

_Never more._

He moves the hair from Alec's forhead and looks at him for a moment. His face has perfect features, but without the coldness that accompanies all that beauty, the line of his nose draws a decisive and elegant profile but certainly not too evident, the cheekbones and the jaw enclose the subtlety of his face. His lips...

His lips...

Magnus leans over to kiss his lips. And he gives that kiss all his might, all his love, everything he has. Like that kiss means everything.

It means everything.

And he entrusts to that kiss his goodbye.

And then leaves the bed and dress, this time with white clothes for this great occasion.

He puts on a hooded jacket with an antique, candid white taste that he might have bought a handful of centuries ago in what was then called Persia, and he puts on a pair of white linen trousers.

He closes the door of his room behind him and pulls a light sigh.

The moon has almost completely disappeared. The sky is dark, pitch black. And it looks like the dark fog is thickening on his balcony.

His time has arrived. He fixes the hood on the head, paying attention not to mess up his hair too much.

He sighs, a long, long, deep sigh and goes out into the balcony, closing the French window behind him.

The air is cold, and perhaps if he didn't have this melodramatic vein in his spirit, he would have opted for heavier clothes.

  
  


_Bane._

  
  


The ghostly voice is a chill along his back. The fog moves around him like a hurricane trying to envelop him and he remains motionless. A promise is a promise. And he must face the consequences of his actions.

«Azrael».

  
  


_I came to get my payment, Magnus Bane. You asked for time, did you use it properly?_

  
  


And Magnus nods, a bitter smile on his lips. Maybe he should have done another round in bed with Alexander, after all, waking him up and sink back into him, into his love. Leave marks on his skin, which will disappear quickly, leave something on him and not just that huge emptiness in his heart. «I may say yes. I didn't say goodbye, but I think it's all right».

  
  


_Not everyone is allowed to say goodbye... Time for business, Bane, your time has come._

  
  


And from the fog the dark scynthe is composed, the arched blade shines in the night of that white and translucent material. Adamas flailing in the air, ready to hurl his coup de grace.

And Magnus squints for a moment waiting for the fatal blow.

But something breaks through the air before the scythe.

«Magnus!».

It seems that someone is calling him, that someone wants to get his attention.

«Magnus!».

Someone shouts and the muffled sound that comes from behind the glass doors.

And Magnus turns and sees Alec half-naked in his living room, the runes that scar his skin strongly contrast with the diaphanous colour of his complexion. His eyes are wide open, and for a moment he seems confused but moves quickly, then, and starts running towards the balcony door. And Magnus only has time to close it with a spell. And before Alec can reopen it, with his stele, he will already be gone.

With his lips he murmurs what he didn't want to tell him, a silent goodbye that he would never want to show him, a sorry excuse for going away abruptly.

And Alec screams and shakes his head and beats on the glass and calls him, calls him with a broken voice, calls him as if his life is ending. _As if..._

The sharp pain is back in his heart, and it's horrible because Alec will be the one to suffer the most.

And he looks at him a second more, once more and his heart sinks and hurts and... and... a floating thought flies in his mind.

 _Perhaps this means taking something away from those you love when you die_.

Magnus notices that the moon has already set, while his eyes leave Alec there, in the living room trying to save him, and he turns to look at Azrael, or rather his empty hood, and sighs squinting his eyes as the scythe lowers to do his work, to take his life.

He's fare beyond salvation.

And what scares him the most is that Alec is there to witness it, his end. So with the last flicker of his magic he lets the potion and the letter reappear on the coffee table in the living room.

The scythe hovers over him, threatening and then...

  
  


This is the end.

His end.

  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo,  
> yeah this is the end. As you may have noticed I changed the tags but... But don't despair! This is only the beginning. This story will turn into a series of at least another major work, and a couple or so of brief stories...  
> So stay tuned for the rest!  
> Thank you as always for reading so far and for the great support you've given me! 
> 
> PS: I'm thinking that I might change the title of this work... to be able to use this one on Alec's POV over this whole matter... I don't know I just wanted to tell you that.
> 
> Thank you


End file.
